


Things Are Different Now

by realityfallsapart



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, General feels, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Angst, Steve Has Issues, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, just know that they both are hurting but they learn to help each other and support each other, reflection through their relationship, this isn't written like a poem ahfasfaslhfkja the summary just looks like that oops, trauma is vaguely touched upon but not delved too deeply into
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realityfallsapart/pseuds/realityfallsapart
Summary: For Tony, it is a simple cause and effect.A before and after.Black and white.Hot and cold.Old and new.Past and present.Before Steve, andafterSteve.For Steve, it's like the snow melting and giving way to spring.Gradual.Slow.Peaceful.Natural, and right.Tony.~~~~~Tony and Steve are not the same people as they were when they first met. They’re different now, but that’s okay.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. For Tony, It Is Time

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy~

For Tony, it is a simple cause and effect.

A before and after.

Black and white. 

Hot and cold. 

Old and new. 

Past and present. 

Before Steve, and  _ after _ Steve. 

* * *

The thing is, if you looked at it from anyone's perspective besides Tony's, you'd never know it. 

People see the beginning, how they mixed about as well as oil and water. They see and hear the rude, biting comments, the arguing, the collaboration that is done out of sheer necessity—yet almost in a loathsome manner, especially on Tony's part. 

They don't feel the clamminess of Tony's palms, or hear his heart speed up. They never know about how sweat used to break at the back of Tony's neck because being confronted with Steve was something shocking, surprising, and deeply unsettling. 

_ (Tony can still remember the insults Howard used to throw at him. He still remembers gazing at the file picture of Captain America he stole from Howard, tracing the lines of his then-skinny body, the contours of his thin face, and wondering through teary eyes what made him more lovable, more important, more worthy, just ... _ **_more_ ** _. More than himself. More than Tony.) _

It is hard to find out that the man that was used against you, the man that you learned to hate when you were young and angsty, was so much  _ more  _ than what the stories made him out to be. 

It was terrifying. 

Because if he was so much  _ more _ , weren't you therefore so much  _ less?  _

And when had Tony Stark of all people ever been one to handle things in a healthy manner? So really. What was he supposed to do? 

* * *

But Steve was  _ Steve,  _ and it was hard to try and articulate it, but Tony couldn't escape it. He wasn't just  _ Captain America. _ Sure, he was selfless and kind and believed in the overall good of everyone, but he wasn't  _ just _ Captain America—he went deeper than that. He was Steve. He was rainy afternoons curled up on the couch, drawing the grey clouds and buildings. Coffee with two creams and a sugar and sandwiches always cut in diagonals because that's how his ma had made them. Soft, easy smiles for his teammates and plenty of words of encouragement or affirmation. Team dinners and gentle sarcastic nudges. 

Steve was human. And he didn't know it, but just by being himself, by being  _ human,  _ Tony unconsciously allowed himself to relax around him. And slowly, so slowly, Tony let a few of his walls crumble one painstaking brick at a time. And with every downed brick, it seemed that Steve would take one unconscious step further towards Tony's battered and bruised heart. 

Because gradually Tony picked less fights, responded with fewer scathing remarks, and before he knew it, he would trade a joke or two with him. Or linger for a few extra moments in their conversation, ask a few more questions. 

Before Tony knew it, he was giving the man soft smiles in return. 

Seeking him out. 

Wanting to be around him. 

Steve Rogers, like anyone who could so easily and unbeknownst to Tony himself wiggle their way through Tony's walls, was someone to be wary of. 

Someone to watch out for. 

Someone who was  _ dangerous.  _

* * *

It was too late, wasn't it? 

Because now, here they were, trading smiles that felt like secret conversations, their bodies brushing against each other as they passed in the hallway or in the kitchen. Checking on one another, worried, when they disappear to the workroom or training room respectively for long periods of time. Exchanging words with soft eyes and spending time in each other's space, not talking, not doing, just  _ being.  _

Tony Stark couldn't just  _ be.  _ Not when you were him. Not when you had his assets, his walls, his problems, his fame. He wasn't allowed to just be. 

Yet. 

Here he was, reading quietly in his own chair, Steve across from him, working on a sketch. Here they were, against all odds, just  _ being.  _

* * *

He doesn't know how things evolve between them so fluidly, so seamlessly. So easily. Tony's never been easy in his life. He's always been something to deal with, something that caused a problem, someone that  _ was  _ a problem. 

Tony thinks that he would much rather be easy. 

* * *

He couldn't count high enough to try and express just how many doubts he'd had in their ever-changing relationship. How many times he's balked, run away, and been downright  _ scared _ . 

But at the same time, he also can't count how many times Steve had given him a cherished memory, met him halfway in his worries, or reassured his darkest thoughts. 

_ It's different now,  _ Tony thinks, gazing to his right. Steve is beside him, moonlight pooling across the hills and valleys of his bare chest and the silk sheets dashed over his waist. His eyes are closed, breaths deep and even in sleep. Tony's fingers find themselves carding through the strands of hair on their own accord, causing Steve's eyelids to flutter. He's always been so sensitive to Tony's touch. 

_ It's different now.  _

Steve's eyes opened, their gaze lazy and hooded with the dredges of sleep. His eyes land on Tony immediately and Tony can only watch in wonder as fondness and  _ love  _ blossoms in real time at the sight of him. Steve lets a hand drag across the planes of Tony's torso and hook onto his hip, their skin never ceasing to touch. 

In Tony's sleeplessness he had come to a sitting position, his shoulders resting on the headboard. Steve made quick work of that, using his strength to easily drag Tony down so he was prone before tugging in a different direction, tucking Tony right into the hollow of his arms. Chest to chest, Tony's head under Steve's chin, Tony felt Steve's arms encircle him protectively. Felt the press of lips once, twice, three times to the crown of Tony's head. Heard the contented sigh fall from Steve's lips and felt his whole body relax into Tony's space. 

"Go to sleep, Tony," Steve whispered, voice deep. 

Tony's eyes closed all on their own and his body went boneless. He started to drift. 

_ Yes, things  _ **_are_ ** _ different now. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment or kudo if you liked it! You can find me [here](https://phony-stony.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Part one is [here](https://phony-stony.tumblr.com/post/616964273156063232/things-are-different-now-part-one-for-tony-it-is) on tumblr, part two is [here](https://phony-stony.tumblr.com/post/616964305471111168/things-are-different-now-part-two-for-steve-it) on tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)


	2. For Steve, It Is Warmth

For Steve, it's like the snow melting and giving way to spring. 

Gradual. 

Slow. 

Peaceful. 

Natural, and right. 

_ Tony.  _

* * *

The first real memory that he has after waking up is of him sitting in one of SHIELD's medical wards—a real one this time—and looking out at the city skyline. 

Steve has vague washes of memories of the  _ beginning  _ beginning, but those are blanketed with his confusion, fear, and desperation. He had been too preoccupied with trying to learn what the  _ fuck  _ was going on, feeling too much emotion, too high strung for his brain to form any proper memories. 

After he had burst out of the building to the world around him, his brain had blacked out for a little, panic and  _ terror  _ overtaking his rationale. The therapist that SHIELD makes him see says that it's shock. 

Steve doesn't really care what it is. 

He's looking out at the skyline, watching the people and cars below him, and his head throbs from all of the sensory input. There's too much too quickly, but he can't look away. What year did they say it was? 

His stomach twists painfully, threatening to expel its contents at the thought of all of the decades he's missed, all of the history, all of the technology and people and places, all of his  _ life  _ that he's missed. 

_ There's no place for me here,  _ Steve thinks, and he is  _ cold _ . 

* * *

Even after he had been freed from the ice, it left its mark upon his psyche, upon his soul. There was a chill bone-deep in his body that he couldn't shake for the life of him. It was purely mental, Steve knew that, but it was hard to remember when at times he could process nothing but the ringing in his ears and feel the goosebumps blanket his skin. It was hard to forget about the soul-deep feeling of  _ wrong  _ that seemed to increase with every breath he took in this new century, this new  _ world.  _

He was getting better though. 

He  _ was _ . 

It was easier to ignore it, to pack it away and compartmentalize the strident parts of his consciousness than it had been in the beginning. Trying to stop the world from being taken over by a mind controlling god was good motivation for him to get his shit together, that's for sure. 

But now that the world wasn't threatened, the cold crept back in. 

It always did. 

* * *

He doesn't know when it starts or even why, but if he had to guess, it would be when he moved into the tower. 

Steve's first impression of Tony Stark hadn't been a good one. He had thought of the shorter man as a narcissistic, arrogant, rich asshole who wanted to play hero. But watching Tony fly through that gaping tear in the sky, a red and gold streak rising higher and higher, a bomb in his hands and the fate of the world at his feet, Steve couldn't stop his panic at the thought of Tony dying. 

_ (He couldn't lie, in those moments his breath kept destabilizing, thoughts and memories of his own one-way-flight into the ocean flashing across his brain as he watched Tony disappear through the wormhole. It was dizzying. It was ice. It was  _ **_cold._ ** _ ) _

How could Steve hate him when the man had done something as selfless as that without a second of hesitation?

So he decided to give Tony an extra chance. He wanted to start anew, and he tried to erase everything he had assumed about the man and gave Tony a clear slate. So when he had offered the entire team a place to stay in his tower, Steve had taken him up on it. 

_ "Welcome to the club, Cap,"  _ Tony had said, giving Steve a wayward half-smile and a pat on the back. Steve hadn't known how to respond, but that was okay because Tony was already moving away, sipping whatever drink was in his hand. 

Later, Steve stood in the shower, his head against the tiles, Tony's five second welcome on a loop on his eyelids. Steve had no trouble spotting personal walls when they were presented to him, and he  _ knew  _ that Tony had at least dozens of them. He knew that that grin of his had been filtered and diluted from it's no-doubt  _ blinding  _ genuine one, but it had still left something deep in Steve's chest feeling warm. 

But the hot water spraying on him was no substitute for the  _ warmth  _ in Tony's smile or the heat of his hand, and Steve was still cold. 

He reached out and twisted the handle, turned it hot enough to  _ burn.  _

* * *

The first time that their hands brush over a cup of coffee brings warmth to the tips of Steve's fingers. Every small, accidental touch blossomed another pinpoint of heat across Steve's skin. His shoulders, arms, side, back...anywhere Tony had touched lost its chill for a few  _ precious _ moments. 

Every smile sent hot blood to Steve's cheeks. 

Every laugh made the knot in his chest loosen. 

* * *

Should Steve be concerned? Maybe. 

But does he care?  _ No.  _

Tony's so  _ warm,  _ so full of life and affection that is hidden behind the masks he wears, and the more time Steve spends with the man, the more he relaxes, and the more Tony shows his true self. The more Tony becomes  _ Tony.  _

Steve knows that what he has is special. He sees evidence of that every time he sees Tony interact with someone new, and Steve is suddenly reminded at how far Tony has let him in. Even the other Avengers aren't privy to as much of Tony's true self as Steve is. Tony has many faces, and Steve has slowly broken down many of them over the past months, but there is still so much that Tony doesn't let him see. It's hard to imagine when Tony is already so utterly amazing without all of his pieces filled in. 

It's not the first time that Steve wonders what Tony looks like when he's truly himself. 

And Steve wants to  _ know.  _

He wants to know everything. 

It's not a coincidence that whenever he's with Tony, Steve feels  _ warm.  _

* * *

While the fingers fluttering through his hair feels glorious against his scalp, it's the middle of the night and Tony needs to sleep. So Steve cracks open his eyes and takes in Tony, his silhouette cut in moonlight, the covers pooling around his torso. 

He can immediately tell that Tony's thoughts are far, far,  _ far  _ away—his brown eyes are seeing and aware, but distant. 

Steve makes quick work of pulling Tony down and tucking him close. He holds him and presses kisses to the top of Tony's curls, pride and love swelling in his chest at how quickly Tony goes boneless and trusting in Steve's embrace. 

_ Beautiful.  _

"Go to sleep, Tony," he murmurs, but Tony is already drifting. 

Tony is warm and pressed to Steve's skin, and Steve feels a smile ghost over his own face. 

Tony had  _ always  _ been so warm. 

When Steve had been trying to find his way in this alien century, he had been so painfully alone, so deeply cold, chilled to the bone. Tony had  _ seen _ him, had included him, made him feel like he belonged, had given Steve a  _ home _ . 

Steve traced the sleeping form of Tony with his eyes, and grinned. He kissed Tony's cheek soft enough to not disturb his slumber, and settled against the pillows himself. 

As sleep starts to draw him back to unconsciousness, a memory of their first kiss falls before his eyelids. The feel of Tony's skin, his lips, the tiny gasp of surprise he had uttered all that time ago, how tightly he had held onto Steve. 

The cold is more than a distant memory; Steve couldn't remember what it was like to feel anything but warm. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudo if you liked it! You can find me [here](https://phony-stony.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Part one is [here](https://phony-stony.tumblr.com/post/616964273156063232/things-are-different-now-part-one-for-tony-it-is) on tumblr, part two is [here](https://phony-stony.tumblr.com/post/616964305471111168/things-are-different-now-part-two-for-steve-it) on tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)


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